Statistic vs Precious
by Ninth Lady
Summary: “The death of one is a tragedy; the death of a million is just a statistic.” Snickers.


Statistic vs. Precious  
By Ninth Lady

A/N: The title is absolutely awful, I know, but when I wrote this I couldn't think of a better one. Snickers, of course, with no mentioned timeline, other than Greg being a CSI. The initial quote (which was my prompt) was made famous by Joseph Stalin. As mentioned later, he also said that one did not trade a general for a soldier (the soldier in question happened to be his own son). Please read, review, and enjoy! Thanks!

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"The death of one is a tragedy; the death of a million is just a statistic."

Nick Stokes knew the quote was by the infamous Joseph Stalin, who had murdered millions of Russians, but why the quote had struck him today, he had no idea. He faintly remembered Greg popping in a Marilyn Manson CD while they drove to the crime scene, and he figured that somehow the song had incorporated the quote, resulting in his inability to get it out of his head.

He surveyed the crime scene and sighed. The night was going to be long; he could tell already just by the state of the scene in front of him. Six dead bodies, no suspect, and a disgustingly immaculate crime scene. No doubt the perpetrator had done their fair share of work to ensure that no one could link the crime back to them, but how good of a job they had done was yet to be seen.

Nick could hear Greg talking to one of the detectives, asking about the scene and the victims. Nick didn't bother trying to listen to the detective's reply; he knew Greg would bring him up-to-date later.

The six bodies were lying neatly on the floor next to each other, their expressions eerily calm for what was suspected to be homicide as opposed to suicide. Sara was working on one of the victims, photographing them before allowing Dave to take them back to the morgue. Nick felt strangely apathetic, almost as if the quote were poisoning his normally empathetic nature. These bodies would be viewed by someone as a statistic, not six people randomly and inexplicably dead. Someone somewhere would not care what the corpses had to say, or about the lives they had left behind.

His chest tightened momentarily in panic. Were they all truly that disposable? Would no one miss him when he died? Would anyone care?

Sara had moved onto another body, busy taking photographs, and for a moment, the image of Sara lying dead like the victim she was taking photos of crossed his mind. Shaking his head, he quickly ridded himself of the gruesome and morbid image.

Sara. She was such a loner, how long would it take someone to notice if she disappeared? Who would care? Did she have family who would attend her funeral? If she died, who would he be able to turn to? What would he do without Sara there to brighten up is day and offer to buy more coffee – her treat – when they were both dead on their feet? Was there anyone in this world, other than himself, who loved and cared about Sara Sidle.

Suddenly, Nick was brought back to the scene as he realized that Sara was talking to him. She had her head titled to the side slightly, mouth twisted into a look that crossed between both concern and slight annoyance, meaning she had been attempting to get his attention.

"Nick!" Her fingers snapped a few inches away from his face. "Wake up; they're hauling the bodies to the morgue. Greg is going to go with Dave, meaning we get the crime scene to ourselves. Do you have a particular side of the room you'd prefer to start on?" Her hands landed gently on her hips, her lips smirking slightly, relaying to him that she was actually sort of amused with the clueless look that was plastered on his face.

"Ummm, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'll start from over there, since you've already begun on this side." He tried to walk quickly to the other side to avoid further embarrassment, but the sound of Sara's voice forced him to halt.

"What's wrong?"

Shuffling his feet slightly, Nick muttered "Nothing," under his breath, wondering himself why he was acting so weird about this. Crime scenes such as these usually unnerved Sara, not himself, and right now their roles were very much reversed, which concerned him greatly.

"Nick, I asked you a question. What's wrong?"

The Texan stopped, but did not turn around. "The death of one is a tragedy; the death of a million is just a statistic." He kept his head down and marched forcefully to the other side of the room, not really wanting to hear what Sara had to say in return.

"The same man who said that one does not swap a general for a soldier; except that the soldier in question was his own son, later killed by the Nazis. Not everyone appreciates how precious life is."

With his back turned to her, Nick could not read her expression, however her tone mystified him. It was eerily detached and somehow very personal, as if somewhere behind her words a secret was hiding - a rather painful secret for that matter. He knelt down, pretending he had not heard her, however mulling over her words in his head, attempting to pull them apart and discover what lay beneath them.

"Nick."

"Hmmm what Sar?"

"We don't have to make these people statistics if we don't want." Her voice was soft and fragile, laced with concern yet demonstrating how well she knew him. Nick swallowed hard and touched the wall in front of him.

"I know," he murmured, more to himself than her. He felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. Leaning back, Nick got up and turned to face a concerned Sara Sidle. They both studied each other for a few minutes before the silence began to feel uncomfortable, however Sara never dropped her gaze.

She touched his face gently letting her fingers slide down his smile lines, causing a smile to gently grace her face. Nick did not move, intently studying her face, drinking in the strange, yet intimate moment happening before him. He brought a hand to join hers, pressing her hand against his face to allow them both more intimacy. Without thinking, Nick took her hand and pressed a kiss to her open palm. Sara's brown eyes widened with surprise, yet her smile only grew broader.

Nick smiled too, finally letting her hand go. "C'mon Sidle, let's give these peoples' deaths some meaning then."

She let her hand slowly return to her side before nodding in return. "Of course Stokes." Sara began to turn when she heard Nick inhale and begin speaking again.

"Your death would not be a tragedy…" Sara looked over her shoulder, eyebrow raised in question. "Your death would destroy my world." He was looking off towards the wall as he finished, unable to look her in the face. He shuffled a little and began to turn around when he was stopped by the sudden sensation of someone's arms around him.

"Whaa?"

Nick looked down, thoroughly surprised to see the normally cool and stoic Sara Sidle with her arms around him, squeezing him with all her might. "I'll never leave you," she whispered fiercely. "I'll always be here for you, even if you cannot see me." Nick returned the embrace and kissed her head.

"We'll always be together Sunshine."


End file.
